Five Times Sherlock Turned People down
by toggledog
Summary: Five times Sherlock turned people down. One time, he didn't.


Title: Five Times Sherlock Turned Someone Down and the One Time He Didn't

Rating: PG13

Pairings: JW/SH the others… read on

Author's Notes: Just a 'quickie'. I've got an idea for a mammoth angsty story based on a kinkmeme prompt. Thought I'd have some fun before starting that task…

1. Donovan

There was something very intriguing about this one. Brilliant? From everything she heard. Sexy? Sure, she'd give him a go. She'd seen him, at a couple of the more horrific crime scenes, conversing quietly with Lestrade. Wanting to know a little more, she made her own private enquiries. Lestrade held him in high honour. That was enough to now fully divert her attention towards him.

He walked into the pub at 9.30, zeroing in instantly on her commanding officer. Lestrade had been sitting in a far booth, cradling a beer and laughing with his companions. Ignoring the man nattering on beside her, she watched him approach the rowdy table. Lestrade took him to the far corner by the jukebox. Both conferred, heads bent towards each other, before Lestrade made an angry gesture with his hands moved back towards the booth.

"Don't be so impertinent." Sherlock called after him. "I will have all the evidence you need by tomorrow afternoon."

"I'm sure you will." Lestrade continued to move forward, didn't even bother to look back. Sherlock continued to stare after him, a most aggrieved expression marring his features, before heading towards the exit. Donovan put her glass down on the bar top and didn't even bother to excuse herself from the 'trying too hard' man still chatting beside her.

She cut across before he reached the door and stood before him, blocking his path.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"And you're asking because?" He stared at her so intently, pale eyes pinioning her in place. Warmth spread out over her body.

"Want some company?"

He continued to stare at her a moment longer, expression inscrutable. "Unfortunately, I don't find you the least bit sexually attractive. Excuse me."

Her momentary shock at his rudeness allowed him the time to push past her out the door. Within seconds, the emotion was overtaken by another.

Donovan was not a woman to take being scorned lightly.

2. Anderson.

"Hey freak! Yeah you!" He called out to the man crossing the front yard of the crime scene. Realising the man wasn't stopping, he rushed to intercept him, as he went to step under the yellow police tape. "I'm talking to you!"

Sherlock turned to face him. "Yes, Anderson, isn't it?"

Anderson felt displeasure germinate in his stomach at the other's haughty expression.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Ah! This is about Donovan. Do you really think this is appropriate, bringing this up at a crime scene?"

"Appropriateness? I don't think you know the meaning of the word." His mind went to Donovan's humiliated, drunken rant of the night before. She had not turned up for work that day. Though her prvious alcohol consumption was possibly the real culprit, Anderson need to vent on someone.

"I am not sexually attracted to her. Better to tell her now, than spare her the pain-"

"Tell me, Sherlock, who or what are you sexually attracted to? Sally seems to think that it's this that you really get off on. Grizzly crime scenes"

A harsh, cold laugh answered his words. "This, more than anything, proves to me that my rejection of Donovan was an apt one."

He stepped under the police tape. "I'm a busy man, Anderson so-"

"So prove me wrong, Sherlock. Prove me you don't get off on this stuff."

"I confess I have no idea what you're talking about."

Anderson looked about, left to right. The nearest officer was a few metres away. He wasn't even sure why he was doing this. All he knew was he wanted to humiliate this arrogant brat before him.

"You know what I mean. Or…" A new thought came to him. "Are you a virgin? Is that it?"

A sudden hardening of the other's eyes gave him his answer.

"Oh, this is classic! How about it, Sherlock? Maybe a bit of action will loosen you up. Make you less of a freak. You know my wife has always wanted a threesome."

"And I'll give you the same answer I gave Donovan."

Anderson laughed, shook his head. "Freak!"

"Anderson?" Lestrade called out from the front of the house.

"Excuse me. True police work to be done."

He was pleased to see a momentary glare of insolence cross the other's face, before it disappeared.

3. Molly

Molly had brought the lipstick the week before. The assistant told her it matched her eyes. Molly wasn't much for makeup and it was rather expensive. But then her thoughts went to the dark haired man that frequented her laboratory and a giddiness sweep through her. She bought three tubes.

She decided today she was going to do it. He'd just finished beating a corpse with his riding crop, giving her time to reapply her lipstick.

"Listen, I was wondering… maybe later, when you're finished…"

He noticed the lipstick. Commented. She felt excitement bubble her stomach. This was a good start.

"Sorry, you were saying?"

Just say it. Just ask him. What have you got to lose? Do it. Do it.

"I was wondering if you would like to have coffee?" She blurted out, heart racing.

"Yes. Black. Two sugars, please. I'll be upstairs."

"Ok." The bubble deflated. She felt a little confused as to what had just happened. Had she just been turned down?

Later, when she brought the coffee to him, he again commented on the lipstick.

"I thought it was a big improvement. Mouths too… small now."

That night, Molly threw out all three tubes.

4. John Watson

John wasn't even sure how the conversation moved to relationships. Certainly, he was intrigued by the exotic, admittedly gorgeous, brilliant, eccentric creature before him. But he wasn't asking Sherlock out. He simply wasn't. Sure, he counted himself bisexual. And sure, he felt an uplift of heart rate when the mention of women didn't seem to faze Sherlock 'Not my area' but the mention of men 'which is fine, by the way' elicited a more positive response 'I know it is.'

He certainly wasn't affected when Sherlock gave him a very succinct speech about being 'married to his work'.

"No, no. I'm not asking. No. I'm just saying … it's all fine."

And it was. He wasn't asking Sherlock out. He wasn't oppressing an odd mixture of dejection and humiliation.

It was fine. It was.

When he was going out with Sarah, he wasn't secretly comparing her to his crazy flat mate and having her come up short.

5. Moriarty

"I would try to convince you. But everything I have to say has already crossed your mind."

"And possibly my answer as already crossed yours." Sherlock pointed the weapon at the bomb jacket.

Moriarty could only stare a moment, gathering his response. He put his hands together and started to clap.

"Oh my dear! You truly are classic. Is this what this is to be? A Mexican standoff? Whatever will we do?" He ended shrilly. His face changed, a reptilian coldness overtaking. "To be honest, I really can't decide whether to kill you or fuck you." He paused, watching a myriad of emotions pass the other's refined features. "What if we talked about the second option?"

"You bastard!" John cried out. "You dare touch him-"

"Oh, such loyalty." Moriarty laughed.

Sherlock lowered the weapon. "John leaves. Unharmed."

Moriarty shook his head. "You disappoint me, Sherlock. You're willing to sell yourself to save your loyal dog."

"Sherlock no!"

"So, tell me Sherlock, don't you find me the least bit attractive? Don't you want me?" He lowered his voice seductively.

"Honestly? No."

The dark eyes moved to Watson. "Ah it seems I'm too late. Well, Sherlock. My pretty pretty nemesis. I don't approve of taking by force. But then I won't have anyone else have you either." He signaled above.

A volley of shots rang out from above.

"No!"

Moriarty took a second to watch Watson rush to his fallen companion, before hightailing.

John Watson Reprise

"Oh Sherlock! Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson wept in his arms.

"Mrs. Hudson, I'm still rather weak…"

"Oh, of course." She released him. "I'm just so happy you're ok. Do you want anything? Anything at all?"

"We're fine, thank you." Sherlock gingerly made his way to the kitchen. Watson smiled kindly at their landlady. He hadn't told Sherlock how she had been the first to appear at the hospital, how she had comforted Watson in the waiting room.

The doctor had told them they had to transfuse Sherlock's entire blood supply. He had technically died twice on the operating table.

Watson had felt physically ill. The thought of losing Sherlock…

Said man now leant upon his cane, peering at his various experiments and looking somewhat bemused.

"Well, I'll make you both a nice pot of tea." She departed, leaving both in somewhat awkward silence. John had gone over in his head what he would say to Sherlock when (or if) he survived (no he had to. He was Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes doesn't die. No no no).

But now the words simply expired in his mouth.

Sherlock now moved to the window. "My wretched brother should be coming at any minute."

John wondered whether it would help or hinder to tell him that Mycroft had been to the hospital, while he was in an induced coma. That his brother had held his hand, watching him with an utmost pained expression.

"Sherlock…how are you feeling?"

The dark-haired man seemed bemused by the question. "Surely, as a doctor you already know the answer to that."

"I'm glad that you…" Yes, this was going well. "Sherlock, you almost died. In fact, it's remarkable that you survived. I'm not relieved, I'm bloody…"

"John?"

It wasn't helping that the rays from the setting sun refracting through the window now back lighted his dark curls, highlighted the delicacy of his features. His pale blue irises were glittering diamonds.

"I'm so bloody ecstatic I feel like dancing around the room."

Sherlock grinned. "If you feel you must."

John affected a mock dance around the lounge room, jittering his arms and legs in an off-beat jitterbug. Sherlock's grin turned to laughter.

"You are positively adorable John Watson."

John abruptly stopped. His heart started to hammer.

Say it. Just say it.

"So are you, Sherlock Holmes."

Both were silent a long moment. John tried to internally calm down his raging heart.

"So I guess that's that. It's out there now. I'm… interested. You're work is your love, I know."

"Not anymore."

John tried to process his words. Sherlock shook his head.

"Acting obtuse doesn't become you, John. I would be much aggrieved if you didn't come over here right now and kiss me."

John rushed over.

Neither heard the tap on the door a few minutes later.


End file.
